Chapter Text
The sun rose lazily over Arlen, Texas, casting a warm glow across the freshly mowed lawns. Birds chirped, lawnmowers hummed faintly in the distance, and the ever-familiar hum of a propane grill signaled another peaceful day at the Hill household.
Inside the kitchen, Bobby Hill sat at the table in his pajamas, nervously picking at a stack of pancakes shaped like Poké Balls.
“Bobby, eat up,” Peggy Hill said, sliding him a glass of MooMoo Milk. “You need your strength if you're going to be the best there ever was.”
“I dunno, Mom,” Bobby said, sighing. “What if I pick the wrong Pokémon? What if I can’t even win a battle?”
Hank Hill looked up from his newspaper and lowered it with his usual steady, practical gaze.
“Now Bobby, there’s no such thing as the ‘wrong’ Pokémon. There’s only the one that’s right for you. It's like choosing the right grill. You don't go out lookin' for one with the most buttons, you pick the one that does the job and you stick by it. That’s what makes a real trainer.”
Peggy nodded enthusiastically. “You come from strong roots, Bobby. You are part Hill, part Platter, and one hundred percent ready.”
Hank stood and straightened his shirt. “Now, son, it’s time. You’re going to head over to see Professor Boomhauer. He’s got a starter Pokémon waitin’ for you.”
“Dang ol’ Professor Boomhauer,” Bobby muttered, smiling. He grabbed his backpack and stood up, nerves giving way to excitement. “Okay! I’m ready!”
Boomhauer’s Pokémon Lab wasn’t much of a lab. It was a converted garage with a satellite dish strapped to the roof and several half-disassembled Poké Balls on the table. Professor Boomhauer stood at the workbench, fiddling with a Pokédex and muttering to himself.
“Yeah man, dang ol' data compilation, got all them Pokémons, type charts, stats, dang ol' region-specific variants, man…”
“Uh… Professor Boomhauer?” Bobby stepped inside.
Boomhauer turned, smiling. “Hey man, tell ya what, you ready for your first dang ol’ starter Pokémon, man?”
Bobby nodded. “Yes sir!”
Boomhauer gestured to a table with three Poké Balls. “You got your Treecko, your Torchic, your Mudkip. Grass, fire, and water, man. Pick whichever speaks to ya.”
Bobby looked over the Poké Balls and hesitated. Then one of them wiggled slightly, and with a flash, a small green gecko-like creature emerged, stretching and looking at Bobby with cool, focused eyes.
“I’ll take Treecko,” Bobby said. “He looks kinda... chill.”
Boomhauer grinned. “Man, good choice, yeah man, Treecko’s got calm. Now here’s your Pokédex, your Poké Balls, and some Berry snacks. You take care of him, and he’ll take care of you.”
Back home, Bobby ran up the driveway, Treecko riding on his shoulder.
“Mom! Dad! I got him!”
Peggy opened the door and let out a small squeal. “Oh Bobby, look at him! What a darling little reptile!”
Treecko gave a casual thumbs-up with its tiny hand.
Hank squinted in approval. “Solid choice. Grass-type. Good early coverage. Strong against Rock and Ground, not so great against Flying or Poison, though.”
Bobby nodded, proud. “Treecko and I are gonna be the best team in Texas!”
“Well,” Hank said, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t we test that out? Peggy?”
Peggy had already pulled a Poké Ball from her purse. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Out in the Hill’s backyard, the grill had been rolled aside to make room for a makeshift battlefield. Bobby stood across from his mom, heart pounding.
“Go, Treecko!”
Peggy held up her Poké Ball dramatically. “Let’s show them how it’s done, Spearow!”
A flash of light and a cry of “SPEEAAAH!” later, a fierce-looking bird flapped in place, eyes narrowed.
“Treecko, use Pound!”
Treecko darted forward, smacking Spearow with its tail.
“Wing Attack, now!”
Spearow swooped in, striking Treecko hard. It stumbled back.
“Treecko, quick! Use Pound again!”
But Spearow was faster. Another Wing Attack and Treecko hit the ground.
“Treecko!” Bobby gasped, running over.
Peggy returned Spearow. “You did good, honey. That was a strong start.”
Hank walked over, crouching beside him. “Now, Bobby, a real trainer doesn’t win every time. What matters is what you do after a loss.”
Treecko slowly stood up and gave a weak but determined nod.
“That’s right,” Peggy said, kneeling. “You’ll get stronger. It’s all part of the journey.”
Hank stood, arms crossed. “Speaking of, your first badge challenge is right here in Arlen. The gym leader’s Buck Strickland. But don’t expect any favors just because he’s my boss.”
Bobby blinked. “Mr. Strickland runs a gym?”
“He sure does,” Hank said. “Propane-themed. Of course.”
Bobby looked to the horizon. “Okay. I’m going.”
Hank stopped him and handed over a small pouch. “Poké Balls. You’ll need these. And Bobby…”
Bobby turned.
“One day, when you’re ready... you’ll battle me.”
Bobby’s eyes widened. He nodded. “I will.”
On the outskirts of Arlen, Bobby and Treecko came upon a grassy field where a wild Ponyta grazed. The fire-horse Pokémon turned at the sound of footsteps, flames flickering from its mane.
“Whoa… Treecko, let’s try to catch it!”
The battle was quick. Ponyta was nimble, but Treecko’s Pounds, Quick Attacks, and strategy wore it down. One well-placed Poké Ball toss later, and the Ponyta was Bobby’s. He then threw the ball again to see his new friend.
“YES! You’re so cute!” Bobby grinned, petting its nose. “I’m gonna ride you everywhere!”
Treecko rolled his eyes and hopped on his shoulder again.
Not long after, on the path to Strickland Gym, Bobby ran into a familiar face riding his bike.
“Joseph!”
“BOBBY! DUDE! You got a Ponyta?! That’s sick.”
“You got a Pokémon too?”
“Check it out! GO, HAWLUCHA!”
Bobby’s eyes widened as the fighting-flying type landed in front of them, arms crossed dramatically.
“Let’s battle!” Joseph grinned.
“Okay! Treecko, let’s go!”
It wasn’t close. Hawlucha’s Aerial Ace took Treecko down in one hit.
“Oh man…” Bobby said quietly.
“Don’t worry, Bobby,” Joseph said. “First battles are rough. You’ll get better. I’m already headed to the second gym!”
Joseph waved and ran off, leaving Bobby slumped.
Ponyta nuzzled him gently. Treecko looked disappointed, but not angry.
“You’re right, guys. I gotta keep going.”
After a quick stop at the Pokémon Center, Bobby stood at the doors of the Strickland Gym. The inside looked like a propane showroom, complete with branded tanks and grill displays. Joe Jack greeted him at the front.
“You here for a badge, kid? Gotta get through me first!”
“Let’s do this! Ponyta, go!”
Joe Jack sent out a Munchlax, and the battle began.
Munchlax was tough, but Ponyta’s speed and a solid Ember attack eventually wore him down.
“Whew!” Bobby wiped sweat from his brow as Joe Jack returned his Pokémon.
“Good battle, kid. Buck’s waitin’ for ya.”
Buck Strickland leaned on the railing above the gym floor, grinning.
“Well if it ain’t little Bobby Hill. You sure you wanna do this?”
“I’m sure!”
Buck jumped down and tossed a Poké Ball. “Ekans! Let’s coil this kid up!”
“Treecko, you’re up!”
Ekans hissed and lashed out with Poison Sting. Treecko dodged, responding with Pound. The two went back and forth. Wrap, Pound, Poison Sting, Pound. Until finally, Treecko landed a solid final blow, and Ekans slumped to the floor.
“You did it, Treecko!” Bobby cried out.
Buck clapped and laughed. “You got potential, boy. Here’s your badge.” He handed Bobby a small propane-tank-shaped emblem.
That evening, Bobby arrived back home, badge in hand.
“You got it!” Peggy squealed.
Hank nodded with pride. “That’s good, Bobby. But tomorrow... the real challenge begins. You’ll be leaving Arlen. New towns, new gyms. New battles.”
Bobby looked down at his badge and smiled. “I’m ready.”
Treecko and Ponyta stood beside him.
And so, with the propane badge shining in his hand and the vast Texas region waiting ahead, Bobby Hill’s Pokémon journey had only just begun.