human
Subaru:  If he changed clothes, he could just make it without being late.
gpt
Subaru:  But Subaru made no sign of changing clothes as he stared at the movement of the clock from atop the futon. Gradually, the second hand notched forward, and the minute hand moved to ten—crossing the deadline. From then on, he would not make it in time for school to begin. However he might struggle, that was absolute.
human
Subaru:  “…So it can’t be helped. Yeah, it can’t be helped.”
gpt
Subaru:  Perhaps, if there’d been just a little more time until he could harden his resolve, he might have made it to school. But reality had imposed its time limit on Subaru to an exceptional extent. He’d gone beyond it. Therefore, no more would the choice press upon him that day. And yet—
human
Subaru:  “…Usually, this would calm me down, wouldn’t it? What gives…?” His breath was ragged, his heart rate wouldn’t settle, and Subaru desperately tried to suppress the shaking of his body.
gpt
Subaru:  This was the time for his daily ritual of fear to come to a close. Even though he knew that the same fear would come every day at the same hour, that day’s had exceeded all bounds. That morning, no one would censure Subaru any longer. No one would hurry him, or back him into a corner. Whether to go to school—the time that tiny question would cause such powerful pain to Subaru had come to an end. It had been several months since he had rejected school and become a delinquent. Though this had given root to a powerful sense of inferiority and self-revulsion, he became relieved every time he confirmed that the time to go to school had passed. This was something Subaru had repeated many times over. Thus, the palpable sense of relief should have been well ingrained in Subaru’s flesh. And yet…
human
Subaru:  “What is it, today of all days…?”
gpt
Subaru:  The sense of guilt and self-hatred, the clinging sense of unpleasantness…they just wouldn’t vanish. He didn’t know where the sense of nervousness plucking at his chest was coming from. Without understanding how to set his breathing straight, Subaru agonized on top of the futon, smeared in disagreeable sweat. Now that he thought back, something had been off from the moment he’d awoken that morning. His father, Kenichi, hatching schemes like that to wake Subaru up was a daily fact of life. Once Subaru stopped going to school, becoming a good-for-nothing in name and fact, his father’s approach toward him hadn’t changed from before. And yet, the physical contact, the conversing, the holds from his father, now hurt for a different reason. Even if his mother, Nahoko, had all kinds of harebrained ideas that strayed from the mark, with those that misfired, like the one that morning, far more common than those that did not, she’d always put Subaru first—always, for seventeen years. Even so, his mother’s gaze that morning had instilled a sense of loneliness and thoughts of self-reproach well beyond the norm.