According to team sources, Ireton’s relationship with Ohtani has taken on a different, more reverential dynamic in the past few weeks, with his translations often feeling less like direct quotes and more like cryptic proclamations. When a reporter recently asked how Ohtani’s elbow was recovering after an outing, the three-time MVP looked skyward and spoke for nearly five minutes before Ireton—eyes cast downward and hands clasped at his waist—cleared his throat to translate: “The Host’s form is but a fleeting shell, his body a vessel for what must come.”

“At first we thought The Host was just a nickname from Japan or something and didn’t think much of it,” said Dodgers right fielder Teoscar Hernández, adding that players were unsettled by Ohtani speaking in a mixture of Japanese and an unknown archaic language while Ireton loomed behind him jotting down curious glyphs in a notebook. “But then Will started saying stuff like ‘The Host will soon conquer more than baseball’ and ‘The Host must not taste defeat, lest his fury blacken the sky.’ It’s weird, man.”

In recent weeks, members of the Dodgers organization have observed a disquieting shift in Ohtani’s behavior, noting that his warm-up routine now feels like a series of solemn rites and that he declines to read scouting reports in favor of “conferring with the veil.” He is said to spend hours before each game carefully rotating the team’s batting helmets to face a precise direction, and when a celebrating teammate offers Ohtani a high-five, Ireton glides between the players and murmurs, “Cleanse first.” 

Sources also confirmed that before each game, Ohtani enters the dugout and constructs a small mound of dirt, pine tar, and sunflower seeds, which teammates claimed is always faintly warm to the touch. Ireton reportedly refers to this mound only as “the Seedbed” and has described it as the keystone of what he calls “the Ascension,” a term Ohtani now invokes many times daily with increasing urgency.

“The Ascension, the Ascension, the Ascension—he’s always going on about the Ascension,” said first baseman Freddie Freeman, admitting he was baffled by Ohtani tracing an ancient symbol on his forehead and sprinkling rosin in a spiral over his cleats. “I asked him what it meant, and he just smiled. Then Will said, ‘The hour grows near when all will know. The Ascension stirs beneath the red soil.’ It made me really uncomfortable.” 

Several teammates have reported experiencing peculiar dreams after sitting near Ohtani in the dugout. 

“Shohei told me in a dream that I was cherished and that we’d be together in the Ascension,” pitcher Clayton Kershaw said. “He said, ‘The vessel strengthens with each offering of a strike,’ and then he fed me a glowing piece of Dubble Bubble and said I had been cleansed. After that, I woke up on the floor of my hotel room covered in salt.”

“It was so bizarre,” Kershaw added. “But I went on to pitch my best game of the season the following day.”

Despite the unusual conduct, Dodgers manager Dave Roberts insisted that Ohtani’s habits fall in line with baseball’s long tradition of player eccentricities. 

“You know, guys are superstitious—some wear the same socks every game, some won’t step on the baseline chalk,” said Roberts, revealing that Ohtani had dug little holes in the infield dirt and whispered about summoning a new dawn. “This is the same sort of deal. As long as he keeps crushing the ball and throwing strikes, I don’t see a problem.”

However, team sources expressed concerns about a recent away game in Philadelphia during which Ohtani became visibly distressed upon seeing the Phillie Phanatic gyrating in front of the dugout. Witnesses said he clutched his head in agony and cried, “The shape is wrong. The vessel is mocking me,” causing the stadium lights to flicker and all of the bats in the dugout to fall off the racks and roll toward the Seedbed.

Ohtani then exited the game, sparking injury concerns. While the Dodgers declined media requests to speak with Ohtani after the game, his interpreter emerged at a press conference.

“The Host prepares for the Ascension,” Ireton said in a trembling voice, his face pale and slick with sweat. “He must remain beneath wet towels until the moon completes its arc. Soon, the bases will clear, and the final inning will be played. The Host awaits on deck.”

At press time, the infield dirt began to smolder and throb, and the foul poles swayed in the windless sky. 

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