Well that works too.

The water is cold against her skin. If it has a soul, it pays her no heed, continuing to fall down according to natural law. It's almost as if she stuck her hand into another world - a world that does not care about her nor her powers, one where she is small and insignificant.

It's in stark contrast to the warmth inside the van, though that warmth will quickly flee if she keeps the window open. She may have noticed a difference between man-made and natural things before, but now it's as clear as the difference between white and black.

It's also a far cry from Hueco Mundo. There, the environment may have seemed desolate, but spiritually, it was dense, heavy with longing, with unsatisfied desire and whispers of those who have perished. She could feel her powers growing just breathing in that oppressive air.

Here, right now, she gets a feeling that if she were to step in that freezing downpour, it would wash away what little spiritual connection she has to the world around and just leave her soaking wet and miserable.