A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the disappearance. School started and since it was junior year I pretty much lost any social life I had xD. Anyways, I know that this is DEFINITELY not the third install ment of Rhythm but when inspiration hits, it hits HARD. So forgive me, for the sidestory. :) I hope you like it. It could be better, I know, but I like it raw. R&R!

Tomorrow Night

Leaves from the vine
Falling so slow
Like fragile tiny shells
Drifting in the foam...

She didn't know when these feelings began.

She only knew that one day she woke up, her heart yearning for him so much that every breath was painful. By the time she noticed these feelings, it was far too late to walk away.

He was beautiful and strong; the epitome of a true hero, a warrior. He was born for greatness.

She would hear nothing but praise about him and when she took her evening walks through the castle grounds he would be in the courtyard training with his men. He was fearless, humble, and compassionate. In his eyes she could see the love he had for this kingdom and the love he had for his people.

And more and more she fell in love with him.

But he was a soldier - his purpose was to serve the royal family and die protecting his kingdom.

And she was a princess - her purpose was to marry a prince from a faraway land and live happily ever after.

The air began to cool as the sun set and the moon rose and she could feel the goose bumps erupt over her bare arms. But even so, she refused to move, her viridian eyes never leaving him. She could hear the voices of her ladies in waiting but she ignored them and soon the calls stopped, for they were familiar with her ways. She would return inside when she wished but for the time being she wished to remain where she was.

He could sense her. Her scent was in the air – lavender and vanilla – so vivid around him he could practically taste her. His blood burned in his veins, and his attacks against his opponent increased in speed and force.

He steeled his nerves, pushing the need and longing for her out of his body and into the open air, his senses narrowing in on the sound of metal against metal. He kept moving, for if he stopped his thoughts would settle on her again, and that was deadlier than any battle he would ever fight.

But his opponent was weak and the spar was over as soon as it began.

"Congratulations on your win again, Captain. Thank you for your time. I have learned much in this spar."

He looked at his subordinate and nodded. "The honor was mine, soldier. Go to the infirmary and have your wounds checked."

And he was left alone, vulnerable against his greatest enemy: her.

She moved quickly, her footsteps light and her breathing even. When she reached the edge of the courtyard, it was just in time to see his opponent leaving. He was alone now.

She watched him, slowly taking a step from the shadows and into the pale light of the moon.

"An excellent spar, Captain. Congratulations."

He turned his head ever so slightly in her direction and spoke, "Thank you, Hime-sama."

She moved closer, her steps easy and measured, the edge of her robes sweeping gently across the damp grass, her feet sinking in the dirt. "You're injured."

"It's nothing."

Her dainty hands, cold against his warm skin brushed against his shoulder where a deep cut resided. The wound was even more hideous in the light of the moon. "Let me help you."

She was too close. Where her scent had been strong before now it was overwhelming and he could feel his resolve and self-control slipping from him like water through cupped hands. Her voice was soft and airy, and she sounded more like she was sighing than talking.

She was such a gentle creature, so delicate and refined.

When her hands touched his skin, he hissed, the cold from her hand a disturbing but welcome sensation. "Let me help you." She sighed and he was too afraid of losing himself to protest. He heard a ripping sound and was half pleased and half appalled when he realized she had ripped the edge of her robe to provide a makeshift bandage for him.

Her movements were slow and precise. Her every touch lingered and he groaned quietly. She was tempting him.

He groaned and she smiled slightly, the corner of her lips tilting upwards. She finished wrapping his wounds and almost instantly he began to move away from her but she stopped him, carefully touching his elbow. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"

He didn't turn to face her, but his answer was clear. "No. It's late. Please Hime-sama, you should go back inside."

She didn't budge, ignoring his suggestion. She tugged at his elbow and stepped forward so that she was face to face with him, looking into pools of obsidian. "Sasuke," she whispered her other hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "Where else does it hurt?"

Fuck it. Fuck self-control. Fuck it all.

His gaze warmed and he leaned into her touch, the heat in his veins returning, the longing and need for the woman before him increasing tenfold.

He wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body; his left hand tangled itself in her pink locks. "Kiss me, Sakura."

She obliged, closing the distance between them. The kiss was tender, filled with affection and adoration. Slowly the passion behind it began to build and he found himself running his tongue over her soft lips, and once again, she obliged.

She whimpered against him and he groaned at the feel of her tongue pushing playfully against his, and his hands moved from her hair and back, running them over her ribcage. Her robe was beginning to loosen and he shuddered at the feel of her supple, trembling body against him.

She gasped against his mouth and his kisses moved down to her chin, to the shell of her ear, to her neck and collarbone. She moaned and tried to steady herself, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other running through his hair.

Every night.

Every night they met like this and it still wasn't enough.

"Sasuke," she whispered. "Sasuke we must stop."

He kissed her again, to silence her.

"No."

"Nnngh!" She gasped as his fingers brushed the underside of her breast.

And then they heard it, the sound of a frantic soldier calling for him. "Captain! Captain!"

His grip on her loosened and she stepped back. "You must go." She murmured. He looked at her, his expression pained. But the calls grew louder and he knew she was right, he had to go. She reached up to caress his face and he brought his lips to her forehead.

His voice was soft but filled with conviction. "Until tomorrow night, my love."

And he was gone.

The sun rose and set and when day settled into night she waited for him in the courtyard but he never came.

Night after night she waited, and night after night he did not come.

It wasn't until the twelfth night that she received news of his death. The only thing left of him was his sword, which she cradled to her chest as she wept.

He had said tomorrow night, but for her, tomorrow never came.

Little soldier boy
Come marching home
Brave soldier boy
comes marching home...