The volcanic explosion turned the skies black, triggering a destructive tsunami.
Two years on, some of Tonga's islands might be abandoned forever.
Lisala Folau will never forget the noise.
The bang of the Hunga Tonga–Hunga Haʻapai volcano; so loud it made his ears pop.
Later it was the tsunamis, steaming in from both sides of the island.
Then, he was gone.
"I felt powerless," he says. "I was swept away from the island, [away] from my family."
Lisala spent 27 hours at sea, drifting from reefs to abandoned islands, the difference between life and death just a piece of driftwood shoved beneath his arms.
"I just held on to the wood," he says.
"I have a disability and can't use my legs to swim, just my arms."
He survived, miraculously, coming ashore on Tonga's mainland after drifting about 10km in open ocean.
In the aftermath of the Hunga Tonga–Hunga Haʻapai eruption, his story became a beacon of hope.
He was dubbed Tonga's "Aquaman" and briefly became worldwide news, appearing on CNN.
But once the international media stopped calling — and the world moved on to the next natural disaster — a harsh reality hit: Lisala's island home would never be the same.
This week marks two years since the volcano erupted and the tsunami struck. And today, Lisala and his family are facing an even harsher reality: They now belong to one of Tonga's lost villages.
'I'll never forget'
It was more powerful than an atomic bomb.
Scientists say it was the biggest natural explosion of the past 100 years, with the bang heard thousands of kilometres away.
At the time, the plume of ash and gas blotted out the sun for days. All telecommunications were lost, and some feared the whole of Tonga's population had perished.
The ash from the Hunga Tonga–Hunga Haʻapai volcano spread far and wide, but it was the tsunamis that caused the major damage, killing three people.
When the ash plume cleared — and Tonga connected back to the world — the picture of destruction became clear.
"I'll never forget that day," teacher Kalisi Ravovo told the ABC. "It was so scary."
Kalisi and her colleague Quenda Vovo shared a home in the capital Nuku'alofa when the tsunami struck.
Their home was one of hundreds destroyed by the waves. The ABC spoke to them two years ago, in the days after the devastation, as they assessed the damage to their home and property.
Today they've moved into a new home supplied by their church. It's inland and away from the water.
But the trauma remains.
"I struggled to sleep for a while there. And even now when I hear the loud bang of a car exhaust, I just start shaking," Quenda says.
"I've been trying my best to get over what happened. I think we all have. It comes back sometimes, and goes, it comes and goes, but I managed to overcome it somehow."
Tonga's capital suffered some damage, and the recovery is ongoing today.
But it was the low-lying remote islands, away from the capital, that were hit the hardest, with waves as high as 45 metres recorded in some areas.
Whole villages and island communities were destroyed.
Including Lisala's island, Atata.
A new home
In Tonga, Sundays are about two things.
There's cooking — and eating — a big Polynesian feast.
And there's church.
For Lisala, church is a little different these days.
It's in a tent, literally footsteps from his new house.
Lisala lives in a new home on new land on Tonga's main island Tongatapu, after the damage caused by the tsunami.
Loading...The new community is known as "Atata Junior".
About a 20-minute drive from the capital Nuku'alofa, it's like a new housing development, Tonga style.
It's a long way from Lisala's island home — a place he's only allowed back to visit these days.
Lisala lives across the road from Tolofi Folau, his cousin.
Like all the residents of Atata Junior, they share a common bond: They've been displaced from their homeland.
"We always want to go back," Tolofi says.
"But we were told to move to the mainland, it's safer here.
"But we miss it, we miss our island."
'We thought we'd live here forever'
The ABC travelled with the Folaus back to Atata Island — only the second time they've been back since the tsunami hit.
It's a 45-minute trip from the capital, and on the boat ride over, as the island emerges in the distance, the emotion is raw.
"Now that I’m back and seeing how it is [it] just makes me want to cry," Tolofi says.
"We didn’t believe that our little island would be in this situation.
"We thought we would live here forever.”
This is Atata Island today.
Loading...It is deserted.
Loading...Loading...This used to be the island's resort.
This was Tolofi's home.
And this was their church — one of the few buildings that survived.
For Tolofi, Lisala and their extended families, the past two years have been difficult.
On Atata Island, they fished when they needed food and worked on the island's small resort when they needed money.
On the mainland, the pressures of a more modern life have hit them hard.
"We had a simple life here," Lisala says "We never struggled.
"But when we moved to [the mainland], it required responsibilities like electricity to pay, water bills to pay and other stuff like you have to travel in vehicles."
"Here, we're at peace."
Nature will always win
The Folaus' home island was one of three major island communities across Tonga relocated after the tsunami.
Atata Island is close to the capital Nuku'alofa on the main island of Tongatapu, so its community was relocated there. Other communities have been relocated to higher ground on other islands.
In Tonga, the land in these communities is controlled by the monarchy, with the royal family offering up the new lands for relocation.
Tonga's queen, Her Majesty Nanasipau'u, says Tongans have faced many tough decisions over the past two years.
She says she visited the affected communities to see the impact of the tsunami, and the resulting relocation.
"People were reluctant to move," she says.
"The old people said to me, 'This is our home. Who's going to look after the dead? This is where we were brought up, how can we leave our homes?'
"I said, 'We have land for you. [We] might have another tsunami, you never know.' But even now, they still want to go back home."
Her Majesty Nanasipau'u says the residents of these communities can go back to fish their traditional waters. And in some communities they are allotted land to farm to keep that connection.
She says in the end the decision was made by the government with safety — and future sustainability — front of mind.
"We should not fight nature, nature will always win," she says.
"This is the alternative."
Two years on
Across Tonga, the rebuild continues today.
In the aftermath, after a long assessment process, Tonga's government made plans to rebuild 268 new homes in the relocated communities through a combination of funding from donor countries, including Australia.
So far 120 have been completed.
Tonga's Infrastructure Minister Sevenitini Toumoʻua says a combination of a skills shortage and land issues have contributed to the delays.
"We've had some challenges along the way," he says. "But we're expecting works to be completed by June."
Some people in these new communities are still living in tents.
But Mr Toumoʻua says Tongan citizens who had their homes totally destroyed by the tsunami were prioritised for new housing.
"The government is doing more than what it's supposed to do by giving these new houses to people who weren't fully affected by the tsunami."
Although all relocated residents the ABC spoke to say they were told by government representatives it is unsafe to live on Atata Island, Mr Toumoʻua says no-one is "banned".
Yet, two years later, no-one has rebuilt back on Atata, and, apart from its former residents visiting for fishing or brief stopovers, it remains abandoned.
With climate change exacerbating the threat of natural disasters, some say even if they were allowed to go back, they're too scared of the risk.
Others say they are simply doing what the government — or Tonga's royal family — has advised them to do.
For the Folaus, the future of Atata Island — their home — remains unclear.
Lisala is beginning to come to terms with the new reality of life on the mainland.
Yet, the pull of his island home remains strong — and it will remain so for the rest of his life.
"It's my home, [I] want to go back, there is never a time I don't want to," he says. "We miss our island."
For now, the Sunday church service will remain in a tent.