Twelve years ago, I was a passionate fanfiction writer. Among my many stories, one stood out—Queen of Fist, a Naruto fanfiction story centered around Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno. It was my love letter to the characters and the world that had captivated me for years. I poured my heart into that story, crafting a world that felt like home. But as life often does, it pulled me in a different direction.
At the time, my priorities shifted. I was working toward my English degree and preparing to enter the corporate world. Writing, especially fanfiction, took a backseat to essays, internships, and a more traditionally stable career. Queen of Fist—all forty chapters of it—was left unfinished, waiting in the back of my mind, always lingering as an unresolved story I wanted to complete someday.
Now, over a decade later, I find myself back in the world of writing, but with a different perspective. Having left my corporate job to pursue writing full-time, I’ve realized how much storytelling means to me. And in rediscovering my love for writing, I found myself drawn back to Queen of Fist.
Revisiting a project after so many years is both exciting and daunting. I’ve grown as a writer, and while I love what I created, I can see the places where Queen of Fist needs work. The story needs extensive editing—not only for technical improvements but also to better align with Naruto’s canon. But beyond the rewrites, I want to do more. Queen of Fist deserves not just an ending but a deeper exploration through both a sequel and a prequel.
The prospect of finishing this story feels like reconnecting with a past version of myself. I’m no longer the college student struggling to balance coursework with late-night writing sessions, but I am still that same storyteller at heart. This time, I have the experience, the tools, and the time to do it justice.
So, I’m making it a goal: Queen of Fist will get the ending it deserves. And once it does, I’ll dive into the stories that come before and after. Because even after twelve years, some stories never truly leave us—they simply wait for us to find our way back to them.
Elizabeth Yuen 