So here is that thing. I feel like I need to cut the first paragraph because it's fat as fuck, I just can't think of where to do it.
“Bring on the next one!” She yelled, as a gigantic ogre fell in two equal halves before her. Her green-edged photon longsword was already spinning into position for its next foe, and the girl's lithe body was already moving. Two more came for her, large hulking beings, much akin to a disproportionate gorilla. Curved horns upon their heads, and massive fists as strong as steel swung with inhuman speed and precision. The forest trembled as those fists slammed into ground, tree, rock. Every time it seemed they would reach their target, who danced seemingly unprotected in front of them. Her blue jacket matched the short pants she wore, jacket covering an equally-azure breastplate. In one hand she held the longsword, the other arm was sleeved and gloved, and held upon it a thin, white shield, guarded to the elbow. The blade, coated in green photon energy, danced the sweet waltz of death, sliding underneath one of the beast's mighty swings and piercing its heart, felling it. Tearing it from the monster, she pivoted on one soft azure-clad foot and swung in a wide arc, tearing a superficial wound in the right arm of the other creature. Unfortunately, it didn't halt the beast's other swing, which connected with the girl, pushing her four feet backwards.
The dust it whipped up settled, revealing the shield expanded, a white barrier blocking most of her frame. The fist had stayed connected the punch followed through by a second, pushing her further. The light flared, and dissipated, a crack forming upon the metal of the shield. “Tch” she muttered, and leapt backwards, planting her blade in the ground to slow her overzealous jump. She tore the now-useless piece of equipment from her arm, and yanked the blade from the ground, holding it in both hands, unlike her usual one-handed style. Her strength was overwhelming, but one girl can only handle so much. She was breathing heavily, and without her shield she wouldn't last much longer. The monster roared, sensing a victory, but before it could expand on it, the girl leapt to the side and landed hard on her left shoulder, hurling the blade with all her might. It spun through the air and struck home in the giant's skull. The roar cut pitifully short. She stumbled to her feet, unsteady from the impact which had jarred her left shoulder. Clasping it with her right arm, she winced. Dislocated, most likely. That made things harder. She smirked, and stumbled towards the beast. Tugging the blade from its brains with her good arm, she turned and almost fell. Shaking her head to clear the black spots, she yelled again. “Bring on the rest! All of them!” She began to laugh, bloodlust settling in. A male voice boomed throughout the forest. “Are you insane? You're hurt, you can't go on like this Shiro!”
She howled, and launched her sword in a series of vicious slashes in the ground. Tearing through the earth, eventually the metal beneath. Wires severed and sparked below, and the forest distorted, shattered. The cold white metal room came into focus, and she launched the sword point-forwards into the glass box high above, which held the source of the voice. It tore through the glass and stopped, lodged halfway. The man behind it covered his face with one hand. “Anger won't help you.” Though he sounded angry himself. “Damaging the equipment won't help you train either. Besides, you're injured. You need a doctor.” Through his fingers, and the cracked glass, he looked down at the girl. She looked as small as she had as a child, when he first met her. She still clutched her arm tightly, and her breathing was ragged. Yes, just like the day they met. She had been injured that day, too. Her favourite doll had been taken by a group of ruffians, all a good five years her senior. They had pushed her, tripped her, and dangled it just out of her reach, laughing as she wept. Eventually they had tired of her, and left her and her doll in an alley, crying her eyes out. He had watched it all, and were he stronger, he would have intervened at the time. Instead, he waited until they left before coming to her. She clung to him like a newborn. Ever since then, their friendship had grown. She still hated him sometimes, but only the best of friends could hate each other, yet still love each other so much. Sighing, he flicked a few switches on the gigantic board of buttons, switches, and god only knows what else, and the booth began to lower itself to ground level.
The booth halted, and a white steel door opened vertically, the mechanical whirring halting swiftly. Echoed steps rang as the white-coated researcher stepped out. He wore circular glasses, and his black hair was tied in an immaculate ponytail. As he walked, he brushed shards of glass from the lab coat, tutting as he did. Regarding her with a cool, sweeping gaze he sighed again. Pulling a transmitter from one of many pockets intricately woven into his outfit, he pressed a few buttons and waited before speaking. “Prepare a room for Ms. Yuri. Yes, it's happened again. Thank you.” Pocketing the transmitter, he spoke gently. “You have to take a break sometimes. The med bay will have to keep a room for you constantly, at the rate you injure yourself.” She schooled her silence, and slowed her breathing. Clutching her arm, still, she stared at him as though she could tear his heart out and show it to him. Her chocolate-brown eyes weren't as strong as she wanted them to be. Pain was coursing through her shoulder, causing her to wince. Her legs felt weak, and she was shaking again. Inwardly, she cursed.
He wrapped one arm around her, and began steering her towards the door. “Med bay. Now.” He steadied her and started marching her on their way. To make the trip seem easier, and take her mind off of the pain she felt, she looked down at her nametag, and tried to make anagrams out of it. Shiro Tenshi Yuri. She chuckled when she came up with “ionise shit, hurry!” which earned a rather strange look from the friend she leant on. He was quite a bit taller than she was, and she was beginning to struggle. He walked fast, purposeful. The medical bay was only a short walk away, and eventually they made it. Shiro continued musing over anagrams of her name, but none really leapt out at her. During registration of her stay on the medical wing, she was almost tempted to use the earlier phrase that amused her so much when asked for her name. Registration was a long and boring process, and she had been through it so many times she knew every single question from memory. Even so, her head swam so much she couldn't remember what order things went in. Finally it was over, and a nurse led her to a room away from the main ward. The nurse left her alone in her thoughts. Researcher boy, as she so cutely dubbed him, had to go back to work, because “you're not the only crazy one.”
Before she could even settle herself on the bed, another white-clad man entered the room. He walked briskly, and his hair was sparse. It reminded her of the toads back on Helios, her home planet. He towered over her, yet he was by no means a truly tall person. Suddenly she remembered she wasn't as old, or as strong, as she wished. The doctor looked her up and down, scratching down notes on a clipboard. “Your arm is broken.” His voice reminded her of nails on a chalkboard. “You've been told before. Children are not allowed in the training facilities.” Suddenly, that speck of dirt on the floor seemed to be the most interesting part of the room, and she focused intently on it. “I just wanted to get some exercise...” she mumbled. Her hair fell across her eyes, and despite the headache, she felt her cheeks burning. He continued. “You destroyed valuable equipment. You could have killed a researcher. If you want to exercise, go for a run. Go swimming. Do whatever it is kids your age normally do.”
Her voice cracked. “I'm not a kid. I have to get stronger so I can find Dad.” Tearing her gaze from the floor, she looked the man square in the face. “I don't care if I get hurt, and I don't care if I hurt others. Nobody else cares about Dad, so why should I care about them?!” She slammed her fist into the wall, denting it. “Nobody...nobody is looking for him. Nobody is looking out for him, nobody is helping him. If anything it's as if people are trying to forget him! I'm not going to let that happen. I know I'm young, but I'm all he's got. If I'm not allowed to do anything, who's he going to rely on?” Unimpressed, the doctor ignored her outburst. “Young lady, even if your father was still alive, nobody would be able to help him. It is a sore shame that he passed on, but you heard the announcement. The explosion left no survivors. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to do my job. Your arm will need a cast for at least six weeks. I'd like you to come back once a week to make sure everything is going as planned. You'll be staying the night here so we can keep an eye on you.” He turned to the door. “Follow, please.”
An hour later, Shiro was once again left alone in her room, left arm encased in a hard cast and held to her body with a sling. Various superficial cuts on her legs were covered with bandaids, and a white bandage was wrapped around her head. Apparently she may have suffered concussion, although exactly why she needed the bandage wasn't explained. Perching herself on the bed, she glanced at the clock on the table next to it. It was only a few minutes past 2PM. She sighed. “I don't want to be stuck here all day,” she complained to nobody in particular. Looking around the room, she took in whatever she could. Generic white walls, check. Potted plant in one corner of the room, check. One of those doors that worked on swing hinges, and could be opened inwardly or outwardly, check. It struck her then, that the medical bay was aesthetically very low-tech in comparison to the rest of the city. The automatic nature of everything was nowhere to be found here. They even used pens, not handheld computers. She considered prank-calling another patient using the phone next to the clock, but decided against it. Again, it was old technology and wasn't compatible with the current transmitter trend, leaving it only useful for internal communications. Giving up on discovering anything interesting, and feeling the aches from her injuries returning with renewed vigour, she opted for rest. The sooner tomorrow came, the better.
Father... Where are you? I know you're not dead. You can't be! Everyone else is wrong, you're not dead. I want to find you, but I don't know where to start... But... I'm fine on my own. I don't need anyone else to help me. I'm frightened and I'm alone, but I'll be okay. I'll be fine. I can handle this, I know I can, I have to. I have to find you. I know you're waiting for me. But I need help... I guess I'm not fine on my own after all. I'm not allowed to find you, nobody will tell me anything! That explosion didn't truly happen, did it? It couldn't have. None of the facilities were destroyed, hell they weren't even scratched! Things don't just explode and not do anything. What really happened? The news is full of lies, the researchers dodge questions or pass them off with answers that don't fit. The councillor says I'm suffering from separation anxiety, and that I'm throwing my all into searching for you because I can't accept that you're gone, and that Mom is gone too. He's wrong, everyone's wrong... Aren't they?