Chapter Notes
Chapter One: Intro
Chapter One differs from the context heavy Prologue in that it's much less of a character study of the new faces and rather a drop straight into the action; much like the original OVA did in 1994. Even for those of us that had seen the live action Zeiram film that predated the OVA, one of the best parts of the original anime was how it simply dropped you into the world of Myce with hardly any context and took you along for the ride. That's what a feeling I attempted to echo with this chapter, as the exposition is sure to follow once we open the story up going forward.
While the Prologue was told from Kazon' point of view, this chapter is obviously told from Iria's perspective. One of the things that I hated after reading back TSoS was how awful I made Iria appear to be at her job. Not just that she wasn't good at it, but borderline incompetent. So it goes when a dumb kid tries to make up his own character in a preexisting story. I realize now that I was so laser-focused on trying my best to make Kazon so damn cool, that Iria was effectively lost in the shuffle and misrepresented altogether. So that was my number one goal when I began to reform the story as Silent Sonata: I wanted to make Iria formidable and powerful again. This is the Hunter that defeated Zeiram and overcame so much emotional strife along the way after all.
That being said, there is a difference between being incompetent and being complacent, and that's where I feel this Iria should be with such a long lull and after such a troubling time… and that is also where her growth should blossom from. As the chapter alludes, fighting Zeiramoids is routine now. It's not the same as it used to be after going through what she went through post-Karma. Even Bob has trouble corralling the attention of a young Hunter's who's skills are gradually beginning to overshadow the jobs she takes. In a way, "like brother, like sister."
...which makes the spat between her and that of the 'helmeted man' (tongue and cheek) near the end of the chapter much more jarring. The three of you that might remember from my original story, none of that stuff happened. He came, he saw, he kicked some guys and got in the flying thing and left. While I want to show a new maturation in Iria, as I mildly explored in the prologue: I set out to change him just as much. His complete lack of personality and one-note dialogue in TSoS I feel only extrapolated the problems I had in misrepresenting Iria. While he shouldn't be made to be the main character (which I tried so hard to mess up the first go around) his story is definitively the catalyst of the events that will transpire as we go. However, the point isn't to make sure that story overshadows the titular character, but rather be fuel that helps her mature even farther into something that we haven't seen before. That is the arc of this chapter after all: we can see a complacent Iria just doing her job, to a flash of uncertainty, to resurfacing to that gritty determination she hadn't felt since the final battle with OG Zeiram. My favorite change from this chapter from the original TSoS is that where I originally had 'helmet man' shoot the monster behind a whining, pleading and oblivious Iria; now they are equals. The difference is how they handle their own differences, and the new, tense back and forth scene at the he end is just a taste to come.
As well, in turn there is a juxtaposition in how the OVA began and how Silent Sonata to illustrate that growth. A rookie Iria let Fujikuro steal her bounty and blow green shit all over her face. This is not the same Iria. This Iria has been though too much not to stand up fight back. And, if I pull my weight and finish writing this, it's only going to get cooler from here.
The other big change is Bob's reaction to his realization towards the end. The biggest plothole I originally found myself in is why didn't Bob know of Helmet guy, especially after the events of The Rogue, my TSoS sidestory. This is a new path that I'm planning on exploring that should open the story up in a completely different angle than how it was originally portrayed.
Going forward, my notes will not be this long winded as the story should begin to speak for itself as we go.
Chapter Two: Cesura
Having spent nearly a year interacting since their introduction in the OVA, Kei and Fujikuro now have a well-established rapport, seasoned by frequent squabbles and an understanding of each other's barbs. Their relationship reflects a comfortable yet combative camaraderie that adds depth and humor to the story.
Longtime readers may also notice significant changes regarding the TTC and its politics. When I first wrote this as a 13-year-old, I had little knowledge of the intricacies of political intrigue and, frankly, couldn't do the concept justice. Now, with the benefit of research and lived experience, I've been able to add more complexity to this aspect of the story. For instance, Caross (formerly Kross—don't ask about my obsession with K's) has been reimagined with a much different personality, though the pronunciation remains the same. Without giving too much away, I hope you'll stick around to see how this character evolves.
Finally, I greatly expanded on the dynamic between Bob and Fujikuro, particularly their shared knowledge of the events from four years prior, as detailed in Rogue. Writing their veiled conversations—filled with unspoken context and subtext—was a highlight of this chapter, leaving readers to piece together the hints as Kei serves as their surrogate perspective. Watching her navigate the cryptic exchanges between these two veterans brings a fresh lens to the unfolding intrigue, adding layers of mystery and tension.
Chapter Three: Ritenuto
This chapter marks a departure from the original TSoS narrative, as the original Chapter Two was a jumble of three separate scenes hastily stitched together. In the earlier version, Fujikuro's musings about Iria not getting paid transitioned abruptly to the TTC headquarters, where the scene with Iria unfolded. It was short, underdeveloped, and required significant reworking—especially since the mysteries surrounding the Sabuku mission were buried under a rushed delivery along with the lede. In this retelling, those elements are given the room they deserve to breathe and unfold naturally.
One of the most pivotal additions in this version is Iria's continued attachment to Gren, even a year later. While the OVA seemed to tie things up neatly with a happy ending for Iria and Kei, I always felt it provided too much closure for a young woman forced to kill the most important person in her life. As mentioned in the Chapter One notes, this is a different Iria—a more seasoned version of herself, with a year of solid work honing her skills and building her reputation. But she is complacent. Her motivation isn't driven by mere ambition or survival; it's fueled by the shadow her brother left behind.
Grief is always sharpest in the immediate aftermath of loss, but its weight becomes more insidious over time, manifesting when you most need the strength you no longer have to lean on. That's where Iria finds herself—living with the unresolved pain of Gren's absence. Her journey, alongside everything else to come, is about breaking through the mask she's built to protect herself and finding the closure she never truly received.
This chapter ends with a new scene that expands on the original writing. When Iria gets home, her frustrations and sadness come to the surface, showing a vulnerability she never reveals to her friends. This somber moment, a quiet exploration of her grief and struggles, sets the tone for the next part, which follows the original narrative more closely. It's a poignant way to transition into what's to come and deepens the emotional weight of her story moving forward.
Chapter Four: Acciaccato
This section serves as the pivotal "pointer scene" that originally capped off the second chapter of the original story, setting the stage for the meeting that will propel the rest of the narrative forward. However, like much of the early material, the original draft lacked the depth and detail necessary to carry the emotional weight it was meant to convey.
While the previous chapter focused on Iria's sorrows and internal confusion, this one shifts toward her resoluteness, emphasizing her growth. This is not the same apprentice Hunter we met at the beginning. Iria has developed the clarity to recognize what needs to be done to pull herself together. Yet, she's also grappling with a deeper conflict—whether she's content to simply do her job or whether she's willing to take the risk of pursuing something far greater.
The addition of an isolated conversation with Bob in her room underscores this internal struggle. This moment reveals that, despite her strength and progress, even Iria has her limits. After everything she's endured, the cracks in her armor are beginning to show, making her journey all the more poignant.
The second half of this chapter required significant reworking to maintain the mystery surrounding the Hunter in Sabuku. For longtime readers, this might feel surprising—after all, they think they already know how this plays out. But perhaps, just perhaps, they don't know the full story. This revision carefully obscures key details, leaving room for new discoveries and unexpected turns while enriching the narrative with greater complexity and emotional depth.
Chapter Five: Come Prima
This chapter marks Iria's official introduction to Kazon, further developing their adversarial dynamic up to this point. Long-time readers may recall that in the original story, Iria was already aware of Kazon's identity—first learning about him during her visit to the Tedan Tippedai HQ to collect her bounty, and later through conversations with Bob and Fujikuro.
In this revised version, however, Iria has been left in the dark regarding Kazon's past. Her closest partners, Bob and Fujikuro, have kept their knowledge of him under wraps, and Dr. Touka's reimagined plans only add to the intrigue. This shift was intentional, creating a more engaging narrative where Iria's discovery of Kazon is more organic and layered.
Most importantly, I aimed to move away from the cliché of a swooning damsel. Instead, Iria approaches her introduction to Kazon with a focused, businesslike demeanor. This version allows Kazon to be an unexpected presence in her life without reducing Iria's character to someone instantly smitten or overly reactive. Their interaction is rooted in curiosity and pragmatism, keeping the tension grounded and believable.
This chapter also reintroduces Dr. Touka, whose conversation with Iria remains largely unchanged from the original draft, apart from a reworked cliffhanger ending. The original scene lingered too long, and with the inclusion of Kazon's introduction, the libations and atmosphere of Outland, and the pivotal meeting between Touka and Iria, this chapter became too dense. Streamlining the ending allowed the focus to remain sharp and the pacing more dynamic.
By focusing on a more measured and complex portrayal of Iria and her interactions, this chapter sets the stage for deeper character exploration and raises the stakes for what lies ahead.
Interludes: Overture, Sotto Voce, Ruvido, & Doloroso
These four asides—or, keeping with the musical theme, "Interludes"—were originally part of a single, sprawling chapter that made up a lengthy and overwhelming prologue. Now that they've been uploaded as separate entries, and with the reveal of the helmeted man's identity in Chapter Five out of the way, I wanted to reflect on the revised structure of this story and why I opted for a tiered approach this time around.
First and foremost, unlike the original TSoS, which suffered from poor structure and uneven focus, this revised version is unequivocally Iria's story. The Interludes now serve to provide critical context through concurrent events or flashbacks. By doing so, the motivations of other characters enhance Iria's narrative rather than overshadow it. This approach allows us to jump straight into Iria's life a year after the OVA, while maintaining the mystery and intrigue of the Interludes without overwhelming the reader or burying the lede.
Secondly, the tiered structure draws parallels between Iria's current struggles and Kazon's inner conflict, without directly overlapping their stories or bogging down the reader with excessive exposition. As the narrative unfolds, it becomes increasingly apparent that these two characters share more in common than either would like to admit.
The short Overture opens the story with a sense of mystery and intrigue, setting the tone for something new while leaving key questions unanswered. The ambiguity surrounding which one of these character could possibly be the helmeted man in the long coat creates a natural transition into the first chapter, drawing readers further into the story without giving too much away too soon.
Sotto Voce: This chapter introduces Ouspi and his aloof apprentice through a carefully constructed conversation that establishes their relationship, beliefs, and personalities. The dialogue—or lack thereof, from the perspective of the characters—lays the groundwork for much of what's to come, not just in this story but also as a crucial addendum to the original OVA.
Ruvido: The battle between Kazon and the reintroduced Zeiram is vastly expanded from the original duel, which portrayed Kazon as an inept apprentice easily overwhelmed by the titular monster. While Kazon remains outmatched, this revision highlights the peculiar technology of the story's world and showcases the grit and resourcefulness of Hunters when faced with impossible odds. Zeiram's small face, perched atop its hat-like head, takes center stage here, exuding malice and personality in equal measure.
Doloroso: Serving as the emotional capstone to this set of flashbacks, Doloroso leaves readers with a profound sense of sorrow and the weight of the unknown. Without giving too much away, the events of this chapter act as a kind of final dirge for Kazon's lost innocence yet to be discussed, shaping his character in ways that resonate throughout the story.
Just as an aside, upon reading the conclusion of this back story, it would be an awesome time to head over to my other story IRIA: Rogue, the sidestory to Silent Sonata as it all takes place over the course of a the few days around the time period of these Interludes from the perspective of Gren, Part Six specifically picking up shortly after Doloroso ends.
Interlude: Pedale
As I've mentioned before, scenes that do not feature Iria's point of view but still contribute to character arcs or propel the story forward will be told through these Interludes. While I've had to shift some events out of order for the sake of these notes—to avoid spoiling the story thus far and to maintain the suspense leading up to Iria and Kazon's first official meeting—this structure allows for a more gradual unfolding of key mysteries.
This particular Interlude introduces a completely new scene not present in the original draft—one featuring a still-shrouded Kazon within an abandoned shack. This scene was a personal challenge for me, as I wanted to tell it entirely without dialogue, relying instead on atmosphere, movement, and subtle visual storytelling. Rather than framing the perspective around Kazon's internal thoughts or soliloquies, I wrote it as if it were seen through the eyes of the hovel itself—letting emotion breathe through the weight of his actions rather than words.
There's an evident familiarity between Kazon and this place; he moves through it with an unspoken ease, suggesting a connection to it—though not all the cards are on the table just yet.
One of the most significant additions in this version is the story beat with the piano, which serves as a central focus in Kazon's development. His reluctant, almost absentminded playing—slowly transforming into something beautiful—acts as a quiet revelation of his hidden personality and past. More than that, it serves as a piece of foreshadowing, hinting at a future that has yet to be written. Though his journey is currently separate from Iria's, their stories will inevitably intertwine, shaping each other in ways neither of them could anticipate.
I don't want to give too much away, but let's just say there's much more to come. Stay tuned!
Chapter Six: A Due
The title A Due is fitting for this chapter, both in name and in action. In musical terms, it refers to two instruments playing in unison after a solo. Here, the two Hunters finally fight alongside each other, offering a glimpse of what this Sonata can become.
We've already seen Iria handle herself—both at the start of this story and throughout the OVA. Likewise, Kazon has demonstrated his capabilities in Sabuku and through the Interlude flashbacks. Now, for the first time, they face an obstacle together, their movements falling into an unexpected yet striking synchronicity that surprises them both. This detail is crucial as the story moves forward, marking the first steps in their evolving dynamic. It's a stark contrast to the original draft, where Iria took off with Touka's information and left Kazon to face the gang alone—something that felt completely out of character for her looking back.
The post-battle conversation in the parking lot between the two has also been expanded. In the original draft, Kazon was merely another Hunter assigned to the job, with little connection to Touka. In this version, however, he plays a more integral role in planning the contract—though only to the extent that Touka allows, keeping him at arm's length from the full scope of the mission. This revision eliminates the need for Iria to rehash information while also adding intrigue to Kazon's involvement. Additionally, since most central chapters are now told from Iria's perspective, Kazon's internal thoughts remain undisclosed, leaving his true motivations shrouded in mystery. This not only deepens Iria's determination to uncover the truth but also strengthens the suspense surrounding his character.
Interludes: Sordino and Battuto
These two Interludes delve deeper into the inner workings of Tedan Tippedai, shedding light on what has transpired in the year since the conclusion of the OVA and the downfall of Zeiram. Sordino, in particular, explores the dynamic between Puttabayh and Caross.
While Puttabayh was firmly established in the OVA as the archetypal corporate villain—callous and morally bankrupt—I wanted to shift his portrayal slightly in this installment. Here, he comes off as more overconfident than outright weaselly, hinting at a subtle foreshadowing of what Tedan Tippedai has been quietly orchestrating behind the scenes.
In contrast, Caross undergoes a complete overhaul from his original characterization. Once portrayed as a maniacal antagonist reminiscent of Kefka Palazzo (Final Fantasy VI) or Voldemort, this version introduces a more nuanced, calculating figure. In his true narrative debut, Caross emerges as enigmatic and unreadable—a man whose motives are unclear, keeping the reader guessing as to which side he truly serves.
This ambiguity begins to sharpen in Battuto—a term meaning "to strike or pluck the strings" of a string instrument—where Caross starts to come into clearer focus. Though still shrouded in mystery, his presence becomes more commanding. The apprehension Touka displays during their exchange suggests a shared history, and we begin to see the effects of years spent navigating the political landscape of the corporation. Caross speaks with respect even while delivering veiled insults, and his aggression is hidden beneath an unnervingly calm exterior. We see new sides of him, yet they reveal little beyond surface impressions—intentionally so.
The interaction between Touka and Caross remains largely intact from the original draft, aside from its placement in the revised story. Naturally, given Touka's past involvement in the Zeiram Project, it makes sense that Tedan Tippedai would keep him under close surveillance—despite his efforts to stay under the radar. But as these Interludes suggest, the Corporation's reach is far deeper than anyone, even Touka, might have realized.
Chapter Seven: Da Capo
Da Capo—literally meaning "from the beginning"—is a fitting title for this chapter, as the main cast finally begins to find some clarity. With all the narrative pieces now in place and the action and tactical groundwork established, the story shifts its focus. After a long day of conflicting emotions and half-truths, Iria is finally in a position to get the answers she's been seeking.
This chapter marks a turning point, revealing many of the long-held secrets surrounding Kazon's past and his connections to the established characters. Drawing from the full scope of the IRIA and Silent Sonata chronology, Kazon's motivations and history are laid bare, giving Iria the space to come to her own conclusions about whether or not he can be trusted—especially with what lies ahead.
The perspectives shared by Bob and Fujikuro as they recount the events of Rogue add tension and texture, particularly in the shadow of Dr. Touka's ominous remark: that Iria and Kazon are more alike than she's comfortable admitting. Their recollections don't just fill in narrative blanks—they deepen the emotional stakes and set the tone for the complicated path forward.
Also essential to this chapter is Iria's shift in how she perceives Kazon. In the original story, her change in attitude was rooted more in youthful impulsiveness—a reflection of my own early writing. In this reimagining, however, Iria's evolution comes from a place of maturity and self-reflection. She begins to recognize the flaws in how she previously treated him and the things she said in haste. Bob's explanations help reframe Kazon's abrasive nature, offering a new context that challenges Iria to reconsider her own assumptions.
Even now, years after the events in question, her support team remains skeptical of Kazon—perplexed and hesitant despite everything they've experienced. And yet, Iria sees something in him that they do not. She doesn't trust him simply because of what she's been told; she trusts him because of what she's felt. Her own pain, losses, and personal growth allow her to recognize the truth in him—something that transcends backstory and builds toward a bond rooted in empathy rather than explanation.
Interlude: Irato
This Interlude is a completely new addition to the story and was conceptualized while I was finalizing the missing chapters of Rogue earlier this year, specifically Part Seven, which focused on Bob's growing apprehension toward his star protégé. In that chapter, Bob wrestled with the fear that Gren's relentless digging into Kazon's tale might not only jeopardize his own future, but Iria's as well, leading to his own complacent inaction in the matter of the dark apprentice. The title Irato speaks for itself—it means exactly what it sounds like: anger, tension, conflict simmering just beneath the surface.
I've hinted at this in a few of the previous notes, but now it's time to say it outright: Kazon and Bob's relationship in the original TSoS made zero sense. When they met in the lead-up to the march on the hidden facility, it was implied they were meeting for the first time in person (AI body notwithstanding). That never held water. Looking back—especially after developing the flow and dynamics of Rogue—it's clear that the two would absolutely have known each other. Bob, given his position on Ghomvack and his ties to the other Hunters, would have had previous dealings with Kazon and Ouspi both. Their formal, distant introduction in the original draft wasn't just awkward—it was a product of a younger writer glossing over the nuances that should've been there. Or in simpler terms: Lazy.
This scene corrects that misstep and brings with it the emotional depth that had been missing. It shows Kazon returning to a place that holds some sort of personal significance to his journey and Bob's arrival, cone-in-hand, serving not just as an apology for his years of silence and inactivity, but also as a way to raise the emotional stakes. He challenges Kazon's perceptions of Iria and her past, just as he did for her in the previous chapter regarding Kazon.
This interlude is critical—it allows both men to confront what's been left unsaid. Kazon, true to his guarded nature, still isn't one to open up easily, especially not to someone he doesn't trust. But the history is there. The sting of the past still lingers, giving their exchange a sharp emotional resonance. And while Bob has to resort to a more forceful, almost confrontational method of mentorship than he typically uses, it's still guided by purpose. Steadfast in face of Kazon's veiled barbs and harsh truths is that same paternal presence, someone who sees that—even if he doesn't completely trust Kazon—he still needs guidance and still needs to hear the lesson.
Writing this exchange was especially fulfilling—from the contempt-laced jabs of an angry youth and the authority to the calm, stoic firmness of a mentor trying to break through to a wayward pupil. It's a clash of tempers and pride, but ultimately one that lands softly: a moment of mutual understanding, however uneasy. Because at the end of the day, whatever personal tensions may remain, there's still a job to do. And it's time to get to work.
Chapter Eight: Fuga
There was a lot of ground to cover in this chapter—both figuratively and literally. The group's long ride toward their objective was something that, like many elements in the original draft, received little attention. In this version, I wanted to give it the care and weight it deserved, not just as a means of transportation, but as a setting for character development and subtle revelations.
The opening third of the chapter features a change in location, shifting from Iria's home to just outside near the garage. This adjustment was made deliberately to give Kei a more active role in the group—no longer just the housekeeper or sidekick, but an integral part of Iria's operations. Kei has evolved into a vital support role: still young, but surprisingly capable, resourceful, and grounded. She's become someone who keeps Iria supplied, protected, and focused.
This change in Kei's character direction is something I felt like the most natural compromise for her bold, headstrong nature as seen in the OVA. After spending a year under the guidance of Iria and Bob, she's matured. While Iria tried to shield her from the Hunter lifestyle—insisting she was just a kid—Kei has quietly soaked everything in, like a sponge. She's learned not by chasing danger, but by observing, learning, and contributing in her own way. And, as it turns out, she has quite the knack for building and fixing things, something that gives her both purpose and a surprising sense of agency in a dangerous world.
This chapter also marks the first time all the major characters are together in the same space, which naturally opened the door for more relationship building. And what better way to deepen those bonds than being stuck in a hovercar on a long road trip? The travel sequence gave me the opportunity to flesh out their dynamics, show how they interact under pressure—or boredom—and highlight the tensions and camaraderie that will drive the story forward.
When the perspective shifts back to Iria, her evolving connection with Kazon begins to take shape. Now armed with the truth about his past, Iria starts to see how alike they really are. Their back-and-forth banter echoes something she's been missing for over a year—Gren's presence. For Kazon, the verbal sparring recalls the familiar friction he once shared with Ouspi. In fact, the exchange builds to a moment where Iria draws out nearly the same line Kazon once hurled at his mentor on that lonely planet, years before. It's subtle, but meaningful—a thread that suggests the beginning of a deeper understanding between them.
Then there's the hairbead flip. Kazon's casual display of Gren's signature snapping technique might seem innocuous on the surface, but for Iria, it's a gut punch. It sends her spiraling into memory. In the Interlude flashback of Kazon's confrontation with Zeiram, we see him use that same gesture purposefully without much explanation or context. We see it again in Rogue in the locker room scene they share, and again during their later confrontation, to plant the seed of their bond, but offering little more.
But for Iria that movement carries weight. The gesture is central to the OVA. Throughout the first episode, in the later episodes when Iria watches Zeiram, slowly realizing that Gren is still in there somewhere—trapped, fighting, trying to hold on. That gesture becomes the thread she clings to. Now, seeing Kazon use it so naturally—without even knowing what it means to her—it becomes the last piece of a larger, more intricate puzzle. One that connects them all… yet leaves more questions than answers.
And those answers? They're coming soon. Stay tuned.
Interlude: Primo Uomo
This was a chapter I knew I wanted to write from the very beginning of remastering this story. It's been sitting on the bulletin board since I first began years ago, and I'm glad I stuck with it long enough to finally bring it to life.
Fujikuro—wit, charm, and all—has always stood out as one of the most memorable characters in the Iria universe. From his debut in the OVA in 1994 to his return in Zeiram 2 later that same year, his arc from shady scoundrel to reluctant hero—and eventually, even more reluctantly, a sort of father figure—has always been a favorite of mine. Sure, he seems to regress a bit in Z2, but I've always chalked that up to two different production teams not quite being on the same page. His absence—or rather, underuse—in the original TSoS always bugged me, and I knew that this was a scene I never could've pulled off as a kid. This time, I wanted to make sure I gave it the care it deserved.
The tone I was aiming for was a mix of comedy and tension—something that pays homage to the iconic ad-libbed scene from A New Hope, where Han Solo awkwardly bluffs his way through the Death Star brig to rescue Leia. Here, I wanted to stretch that energy out a bit—not from the perspective of someone rushing to save the princess, but of someone trying to buy time for his. And to do it with Fujikuro's distinct brand of charm and mischief, while also giving the reader a much-needed breather before the ground team's infiltration and the action that's about to unfold.
One of the most valuable lessons I've learned in writing is that when you're telling a story from a character's perspective, the voice—both in narration and tone—should reflect the character guiding it. In Fujikuro's case, he'd absolutely shy away from big words or overly complex descriptions. Not because he isn't smart enough to use them, but because keeping things cool, easy-going, and low-stress is part of the persona he projects. It's his armor. And yet, it's that very commitment to the act—this charade of calm and control—that reveals the chink in it. Whether that's a sign of a dedicated Hunter or a surprisingly gifted method actor, I'll leave that for you to decide. But either way, I hope this chapter shows that Fujikuro is far more capable—and far more grounded—than he likes to let on.
Also worth noting is the inclusion of the Dempadan flight. We finally get to see Fujikuro in action, rather than serving as the comic relief. It's a welcome change from the original version of this sequence, where his role was little more than a moving target meant to draw attention from the tower. Here, he's doing what he does best: improvising, distracting, surviving—and looking good while doing it.