Once upon a time, there was a fic by Ikonopeiston entitled The Confessional which told Nooj's experiences as he went through Crimson Squad Training. This was so wonderful that it inspired another writer, The RyRy, to author another fic, Another Confessional which documented Gippal's experiences in that same time. Both writings were so good that they inspired me to write a meta of a meta-fic in which Baralai's perspective is told. So, here you will find Baralai's experiences as he moves from his life in Bevelle to the life of a Crimson Squad trainee as written by his own hand.

As the others have noted, the dates at the beginnings of the various entries into this journal are to be read as: year of the current Sin, month, day. So 197S9.8.42 is – the forty-second day of the eighth month of the ninth year of the one hundred ninety seventh mythical incarnation of Sin. (This is a system developed by Ikonopeiston, rewritten out by Ry, and copied here by me. I have nothing to do with it.)

PART ONE:

I really do not know what to do!

The Crusaders have informed me that I am not welcome to join, but I'm not nearly as surprised by this as I should be. I can fully understand that they would not wish to have one such as me in their ranks as I am now as low as the other heathens; I had merely hoped that I would have this chance to atone, even slightly, for what I have done. Perhaps forgiveness is entirely out of my reach, after all, and I should just return to the streets of Bevelle.

No! I can't just give in like that! It would not be right. I cannot succumb so easily. I must be strong and prove that I still have worth in this world. Even if I cannot serve Yevon as I had, I can still defend his beautiful land.

I used to joke that there was always the Crimson Squad, if all else failed; it doesn't seem so much a joke, now.

197S9.8.42

I may have just signed away my last chance of ever returning to Yevon's good graces.

The man responsible for signing me in did give an odd glance to my robes, but he didn't laugh at me or make a scene as I had half expected; I suppose the Crimson Squad must be desperate for recruits when they'll allow one as inexperienced as I to join without even a second glance. Then again, looking to the other recruits, I have never seen such a patchwork of humanity as this: young and old, ragged and fresh-faced, injured and fully well; it must be true that they will let any who can so much as breathe take up a weapon here.

A weapon.

I suppose I will have to take one of those as well. I suppose I will have to learn to handle and to use a forbidden war machina; my bo will be of no use in a situation like this and I doubt any of my other skills will do any good against the enemy. The thought sickens me, but there is nothing I can do for it; I have already thrown in for a gil.

I think I may go try to find a secluded place from all the bodies. It seems there will be a lapse of time until the squad assignments are given and I would like to use that time for prayer and meditation. Somehow, I think that the tight spaces and closely confined bodies would not be conducive to such a state.

197S9.8.43

I have finally found the shirt which some recruit or another had stolen from me yesterday. It was hidden well behind a large boulder a bit off the path. I am not sure what anyone would want with it, but at least it wasn't entirely ruined.

Ah, it seems it is time to meet the other members of what will be my squad; I hope there is no one offensive.

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Did I use the word offensive? I may have been closer to the mark than I had hoped.

They put me in a squad with an Al Bhed!

I do not understand it. Could they not keep the heathens to their own squad? Would it not be more proper to separate them from the rest of us? How do they think we can serve with something like that by our side?

It is so offensive and it is so much against Yevon's word!

I know that I am not in as much a position to object as I had been, but would not any good Spiran be outraged by this?

I suppose I am in no position to speak against it; I am no longer privileged to speak or to preach in Yevon's word, so I must simply face what challenges lie ahead with grace and calm. At least the heathen seemed far more interested in our squad leader than he did in me; he stared oddly at the leader for the longest time and I have to wonder if he's seeing something I cannot or if it's simply that heathens are not raised to know that such things are impolite.

Our squad leader—I believe he said his name is Nooj—is a most fascinating man. It is very clear that he is very much a warrior and that he will not leave us any quarter in our actions; I suppose that is the best sort to head a group such as ours, even if he is given to fits at even the smallest of things. His state is most curious, but I know it would only be rude to draw attention to it.

As expected, I seem to be the only one who knows nothing of this manner of combat; even the heathen knows more of these things than I do, but that is probably to be expected. I'm not sure I even know how to hold the machina gun they gave to me properly and my skin crawls every time I so much as look at it. I know that I will have to overcome these things so that I may be a proper member of the squad and I will do whatever it takes to learn; I must prove that I will be more than dead weight to them!

197S9.8.44

My nerves are making it impossible to sleep and the Al Bhed is making it impossible to do anything else!

He will not even leave me in peace to perform my morning prayers and his whistling cuts through me like the wind atop Mount Gagazet. I do believe he was just trying to irritate me and I know I should rise above it, but he makes it so impossible!

…such an irritating example of a creature.

Regardless, I should likely find a constructive use for this time. I believe I may try to work with the machina gun. This place is far enough away from anyone else that I should be able to practice without disturbing anyone.

It would be nice if I could show our leader a marked improvement from yesterday.

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Pahho.

The Al Bhed named my machina gun Pahho.

It was amazing to watch him handle it. He tried to teach me to hold and to shoot it as he can, but I just cannot do it. I cannot stand to touch such an evil instrument, let alone to actually use it to injure another. Why must I deal with this indignity? Is it atonement for what I have done or is it some manner of punishment that I must work with and learn these heathen arts from an Al Bhed?

I suppose I have no right to question it, but I simply cannot stand by while the heathen claims that I will soon be as he. I refuse to believe that. No matter how far I may fall, I will never be as low as an Al Bhed.

I still have my dignity and my humanity.

The final member of our squad has finally arrived.

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We have our recorder.

Paine, her name is. It is an odd name, but it somehow truly seems to fit her.

She is as quiet as our leader and her expression reflects the same sort of disposition to the world. I am curious what has turned her so, but I do not know if asking her such questions is the wisest of ideas; perhaps I will try to speak with her a little once things have settled for the night.

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I have changed my mind about speaking with Paine.

I think I may simply find the darkest corner of this place and try to find some rest.