On board Japan AirLines

"Arigato," Artemis thanked the flight attendant for the fourth time. "What does it take to get a little privacy here?" He asked Butler through gritted teeth.

"Relax," Butler said behind a newspaper, "she's not onto you. The Japanese are born friendly." He returned to his reading.

Artemis turned to the pale, twitchy boy on his left. "Ken, if I give you Swiss chocolate, will you go sit by Jason ?" He didn't ask it. He said it as a command.

The pimple faced teenager's eyes widened at the thought of chocolate and he replied, "Sure. And I'm Jason," he pointed to the right, "and that's Ken."

"Whatever," Artemis muttered under his breath. He handed over the chocolate and dismissed him .

As soon as Jason left, Butler looked up from the paper. "How are you supposed to a therapist? They're supposed to make people feel better. You're doing the opposite."

"No I'm not," Artemis said resolutely. "You're just over-analyzing."

Butler smiled smugly. "No, and remember what I told you before."

"Yes, yes, girls hate being treated like children, and I assure you, Butler, that I will not make her feel like a two year old."

"Yeah, you'll make her feel like a three year old."

Artemis gave a crooked smile at that.

Butler noticed. "You should smile more often. It looks like you've forgotten how. Now on a lighter tone, how do you find your current outfit?"

Artemis groaned. Shopping was the most torturing thing that Artemis had ever endured. Stopping two worlds from colliding, in his opinion, was far easier and less stressful than choosing a wardrobe. "Please. Don't remind me.

"I take it you're still not into the latest style."

"I'm telling you. What is the point of overly baggy jeans that do not fit me properly? I've already tripped over them over ten times since I've gotten them. That sales lady deserves to be demoted. She purposely sold me these jeans that look like a clown's pants." Butler just rolled his eyes and concentrated on the paper again, letting Artemis ramble on about how there was no point in being a live billboard and wearing shoes that were impossible to walk in. "Honestly, Butler, what are fashion designers thinking? They should be sued for selling people clothing that hampers their ability."

Butler put an end to the subject by saying:If you ask me, Master Artemis, it sounds like you need a therapist, not her."

"What?" Artemis stopped in mid sentence. He realized that he had babbled on again, a thing that was become quite common nowadays. "I- well. Very funny," he snapped. "Anyway, speaking of therapists, let's get down to business, shall we?" He rubbed his hands together. "Could you hand me the Nike report?"

"Here, and the next time say 'please'," Butler disciplined. "If you're going to be a therapist, you'd better be polite so that they wont feel intimidated by you. Now, say it with. Pl-ea-se." He exaggerated.

"Fine. Please hand me the report," Artemis collected the papers from Butler's hands. "Her father has already sent me some information regarding her case." He skimmed over the files then gave them back to Butler.

"Interesting," Butler massaged his chin as he read the document., "she sounds a bit like you."

"Enough with the jokes" Artemis said sharply. "This is serious. If I get through this- when I get through this perfectly, I could start my own clinic. Do I don't want to risk being unprofessional."

"Yes Master Artemis. So what do you plan to do?"

"It sounds here that the girl-"

"Nike," Butler cut in. "If you want her to listen to you, you'd better respect her."

"Yes, her. But never mind that, the doctors say that she's seen magical beings."

"Do you think she's glimpsed the part of the faerie world?"

"That is what I need to find out. So I contacted Foaly and asked him to see if her name comes up in any of the LEP's folders."

"And?"

Artemis shrugged. "I don't know. He hasn't replied yet."

"This is going to be much harder if she knows about faeries."

"Yes," Artemis sighed. "But what am I to do? I already agreed to help her as best I can, but I don't want to exploit the faerie world."

"I guess it'll all depend on whether or not Nike will believe you and keep your story a secret."

"But what puzzles me most is, how could she have remembered the faeries? Wouldn't she have been mesmerized?"

"Something must have triggered her memory, just like it did to you. . Or, it could be that she encountered faeries before the C-Cube incident, so Foaly hadn't even invented his mesmer and they use the old one that could be manipulated by mirrored contacts.."

"Yes, that could be it. I think the triggering theory is the most correct, but something big has to happen for her to remember. But what?"

Narita, Japan

"Father! I swear to Buddha, by Buddha that I saw a faeries," Nike Mutsohiko insisted as she and her father strolled through the rock garden.

Mr. Mutsohiko rubbed his temple wearily and replied, "Daughter, you believe in Buddha, yes?" Nike nodded. "Well, then you should know that faeries do not exist!"

"But-"

"But nothing," he put his foot down, "I wont hear it. Now go, you'll be late for school and I'll be late for my flight to Tokyo." He shooed her away.

Grumbling, Nike changed into her neatly pressed uniform. When she arrived at school everybody made a path for her; it was like Moses parting the Red Sea. But it wasn't because Nike was popular or because of her status as the Prime Minister's daughter. No, it was because everybody assumed she was crazy.

"Seen any faeries lately?" They taunted her as she passed by them in the hallways. The teasing had been going on since about two months ago, when memories of seeing magical creatures came flooding back, so Nike had learned to just ignore the harmful words.

The morning passed slowly, like it usually did. By the end of her first period, which was math, Nike was already drowsy. "Four more blocks," she groaned as she dumped her math book in her locker and snatched her English binder.

Finally, the school day ended and Nike got off the bus looking dishevelled and worse for wear. Her uniform was very creased; the top two buttons or her blouse were undone, he sweater tossed lazily over her shoulder, and her skirt all wonky. She walked into the kitchen and plopped down on a stool. No one was home, as per usual. Sighing, Nike selected an apple and, tossing it up and down, went to her room and locked the door. She grabbed her school bag and yanked out her homework.

"Stupid math, science and English," she complained as she tossed her textbooks onto her bed. She decided to finish her Algebra first (it was the easiest subject), then the plant experiment. After setting up the experiment, Nike began her English assignment. It was nearly seven o'clock by the time she had finished printing off her essay. Nike decided to eat. She prepared some rice and teriyaki and daintily shovelled food into her mouth. She sat alone in the dining room. Her mother had died a year ago due to a freak accident and her father was always away in Tokyo, where he took care of the rest of Japan's problems, not his family's own problems.

Sighing, she cleaned up and headed back to her bedroom. Deciding to waste her free time on the computer, she booted up the machine and nicked a few discs off the shelf. She inserted them in one at a time, searching for a particular file. Popping in the third disc, Nike scanned it. She found what she was looking for. She retrieved the file and saved it on her desktop. Opening it, she began devouring the information that concerned her at once.

Weeks before, Nike had hacked into her fathers' files when she overheard her father and her principal, Sasuke Sito, debating on whether or not Nike should see a therapist. After listen in on them, Nike had tried her best to be on her best behaviour. She had brought her plunging grades up to par and she kept her mouth shut about her faerie stories.

As Nike drank in the information her eyes widened in disbelief. She snorted as her father described her as lonely and lacking attention. But, her good behaviour had gone unnoticed and her father had already hired a foreign therapist. She read over her soon-to-be therapist's, Artemis Fowl's, description.

"Hmmmm…" she pondered. Nike hooked up to the Internet and began an extensive search on Artemis Fowl Junior.

Tokyo, Japan

Artemis had shed most of his clothes, including his 'beloved' hoodie, and he was down to his jeans and Billabong shirt. He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and waited as the rest of the Saint Bartleby's boys tried to lug their suitcases out from the baggage claim. (A/N: I don't know what you call it but it's the one that goes around and all the suitcases are on top and people just grab their bags off it and it's in the airport.)

"I can feel everybody staring at my shirt," Artemis said to Butler. "There's obviously something offensive about it."

"Relax, Artemis. They're just girls and you should know what happens when teenagers' hormones start kicking in," Butler smirked.

Artemis' pale cheeks tinged a bit. "Hahaha, highly amusing, but I'm not here to pick up a what-do-you-call-it? Ah yes, a girlfriend."

Thankfully, the other boys had finished recovering their luggage and Mr. LeCheminant was gathering them round, ending, what Artemis had felt was, an awkward conversation.

After role call, the group got into taxis and drove off to their hotel in Narita. However, Artemis didn't plan on following the schedule.

"Here," he said to the driver, shoving fifty American dollars in his face. "Take me to the Tokyo National Museum."

The driver gleefully took the money and drove off towards the said destination. While in the car, Artemis quickly changed into his neatly pressed suit and straightened his hair. When they arrived, Artemis carefully stepped out of the car and ordered the taxi driver to wait.

"Come, Butler." The pair of them entered the museum. They waited near the entrance for five minutes, before a man clad in a navy suit flanked by two bulky bodyguards walked in.

"Kon-nichi-wa," Artemis bowed in respect.

"Thank you," Prime Minister Kenjji Mutsohiko said. "I expected you to be a little bit older," he said observing Artemis through his spectacles.

Artemis held his hand up as a stopping sign. "Age does not matter, sir, as long as I can be of service to you. I am sure that if you need more proof that I can, indeed, help your daughter, write a letter to Therapy for Therapists and ask them about me."

"Yes, yes, I don't doubt that you can help. But just a little warning, Nike is on the stubborn side so I warn you, be careful. So here is more useful information. Good luck. And remember, Mister Fowl, you have two weeks. Sayo Nara."

Mutsohiko handed Artemis a folder and the two shook hands and parted. Artemis and Butler got back into the taxi.

"To our original destination please," Artemis said, "and quickly." Soon, they were at the hotel and in their suite. Mr. LeCheminant hadn't even checked to see if all the students had arrived safely.

"So, do we turn in?" Butler asked.

"Yes, we have a big day tomorrow and I intend on getting my sleep."