Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Summary: "Even the thought of not seeing Shizu-chan hurts." blind!Izaya Shizaya.


A normal meeting gone wrong. A disintegrated chase with a low life gang.

"Tch. Humans sometimes play so low."

A smirk. A laugh.

"Humans never fail to surprise me."

Izaya Orihara, informant extraordinaire, found himself being chased by some random low life thugs for the umpteenth time, only this time he had been outnumbered. What started out as a normal meeting between Izaya and the leader quickly crumbled into a chase for his life, it seemed that the filthy thug was offered something of more value than the Orihara's information – drugs was it…? – and betrayed him agreeing to turn over Izaya Orihara's head to someone else who held a grudge.

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday,

It was blurry.

Friday Saturday Sunday,

It was dark.

Some stupid chemical was sprayed to his eyes and Izaya gave a smirk to hide his smudging vision as he stood up. He was known for fleeing but the cheating scumbags won't have it that way. Flicks of his switch blade combined with his parkour skills saved his ass but the dirty concoction of unknown substances spread to his eyes like pollution.

"The chemicals…destroyed your optic nerves."

The voice was distant but he felt a hand on his shoulder,

"I'm sorry but…you won't be able to see anymore."

Of course. he put it off.

His pride would never allow him to consider himself invalid or disabled. He didn't want other people's help because he could very well take care of himself, blind or not. It wasn't other people's business if he bumped into walls or stumbled into some stupid table unless those concerned fuckers would miraculously bring back his sight, which they could not.

But he wasn't a miracle worker; and try as he might, he found himself unable to sustain his normal life. He didn't want Namie chiding him as she tried to bandage up the spot where he accidentally poured his cup of tea. He felt the onslaught of nausea as he begrudgingly lean on his secretary's hand as he attempted to climb the stairs. He hated, hated, fucking hated admitting the fact that he needed Namie's help just to read the unread messages in his phone.

It is baleful to think that he needed to depend on anyone aside from himself.

Izaya depending on someone else?

Izaya Orihara depending on someone else?

"You're firing me?!"

"I'm blind Namie, not deaf. Could you please lower your voice down?"

"Why would you fire me?! You can bar-"

Even without his sight, Izaya could clearly see her hesitation.


And that's more than enough to disgust him.

"Thank you for your hard work Yagiri-san, your retirement check is on the table."


Izaya found himself cursing for the third time as he bumped into another chair that caused him to fall flat on his face. Just two days of Namie not assisting him and he could have sworn he earned himself fucking hundred of bruises. He felt pathetically hopeless as he remembered that Shinra would drop by in an hour to fix him a decent dinner. Because the fucking first time he tried to turn the stove on, he almost got roasted his arm if not for Shinra uninvitingly barging into his door after three unanswered knocks.

Since then, Shinra made it his personal job to visit the informant daily to bring him food and to attend to his needs, much to Izaya's chagrin. He didn't need anyone's fucking pity even though he's pitiful by definition. He would lovingly and adoringly shove that shit down to anyone's throat who dare try pity him and he would cackle like a madman as he listen to them choke down on their own bullshit. What he fucking needed is to have a new pair of eyes or better yet to have his eyes back.

The informant couldn't fathom why Shinra would persistently and willingly insist on taking care of him. No matter what he did, what tantrum he threw, what threats he used, how many times he tried to stab him; the little shit would just laugh and pat him in the shoulder.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm charging you insane amounts of money." Izaya's frown deepened as Shinra guides his hand to sign the paycheck.

"You leaving me the fuck alone will definitely make me feel better."

"And have your apartment set on fire."

"I told you to fuck off and I don't see you fucking off."

"Of course not."

Izaya's head snapped as he heard his front door clicked. He's fucking starving and it's about time that little piece of shit bring him his dinner. He stood up as he reached out his left hand to try to feel for the walls to guide him on his way to his front door. At these times, he almost regretted the fact that he had an enormous place. The raven haired man took small steps as he tried to avoid bumping into anything because he had enough bruises, thank you very much.

However, as Izaya made his fourth step, he noticed that the usually boisterous doctor had not uttered a single syllable. He stopped his tracks as he felt his palms sweating cold. Of course it was no secret to him that he had made thousand enemies, so he was one hundred fucking percent sure that if any one of them got to hold of the information of his blindness, Izaya Orihara would be a part of history.

Swallowing the developing lump in his throat, Izaya tried to take his chances.


His worst fears were confirmed when deafening silence answered his ears.

The raven haired informant evaluated his options, which was more of in the realm of survival. Damn it all to hell, if these fucking retards thought that he would go down without fighting or that they would see the great Izaya Orihara on his knees and begging for his pathetic lif-


And Izaya could have sworn he felt his spine freeze and the world stop spinning.


A/N: This will probably stretch up to four or five chapters. Thank you for reading.